


At the End of Day and Night All We Want is More

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Alien: Resurrection (1997), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Clones, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's already too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of Day and Night All We Want is More

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [At the End of Day and Night All We Want is More](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516949) by [aery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aery/pseuds/aery)



> There is "science" somewhere in here. You should probably ignore it.

When he opens his eyes, Erik is staring down at him, his voice low as he says, "Come on, Xavier. Get up. We have to move. _Charles_." Charles touches his face. It feels tacky and when he pulls his fingers away they're red with blood. "We don't have time for this," Erik says, and drags him to his feet.

Out into the hallway, with Erik telling him constantly, "Move, keep moving," as the facility burns around them. Someone screams, but Erik says grimly, "We don't stop."

"We could help her."

"How, exactly. She's most likely dead." The grip on his hand is impossible to break, and Charles lets himself be pulled along, even as the weight of what's surely inside him threatens to choke him and he struggles to breathe.

-

"Are you sure you know how to fly this thing," he asks, after Erik has strapped him in. Charles tries not to think about the blood splattered on his shirt, on Erik's. About the look on Erik's face as he shot down every guard in their way, without hesitation.

Erik brushes the back of his hand against Charles' cheek briefly, says, "We'll find out soon enough, won't we."

Another alarm goes off, and the ship's computer pipes up suddenly: "Warning, this facility is set for auto-destruct in two minutes zero seconds. Evacuation should be immediate. Warning -" Erik slides into the pilot seat and presses a few buttons overhead. The voice cuts out abruptly as Charles tries unsuccessfully to unbuckle himself from his seat. "Erik, what the hell is going on," he asks, as he starts struggling with the buckle in earnest.

Erik replies calmly, and he could be answering a question about the weather. "The species can't be allowed to survive. I did what had to be done."

Charles gives up on the buckle, slumps back into his seat. It doesn't matter anyway, the engine's shuddering, indicating lift-off at any moment. "There are dozens of people here," he says desperately. "We can't just leave them to die."

"I told you," Erik says. "They're already dead."

-

He puts a gun in Erik's hand the first night, stowed away on a ship with a red-haired, heavily scarred captain who looked perfunctorily at Charles' ID and didn't ask for Erik's, and who told them, "If you can pay, we'll take you where you want to go. Cause trouble, and we'll airlock you." That last look was directed at Erik, who didn't seem bothered at all by her tone of voice.

"I'm not going to shoot you, Charles. Not when we don't know for certain. We need to do a scan."

Charles wants to laugh. "Yes, please do ask the nice captain if she'd let us use her sickbay to perform a medical scan." His voice neutralizes, flatlines. "I think she'd rather airlock us." Charles takes Erik's gun hand into his, jams the barrel under his own throat. "Just shoot me," he says, and it comes out as something akin to a plea. "I would prefer to die this way."

"If it comes to that," Erik tells him solemnly, extracting himself gently from Charles' grip and tossing the gun onto the bed. "I promise you I won't hesitate."

That night, Erik fucks him, and Charles smells of blood and ozone and the sharp tang of acid, but he's still hard, and he still wants Erik. Erik has his mouth over Charles' chest, and when he bites down, Charles pictures little teeth clawing out from the inside, trying to reach out in a macabre sort of attempted kiss.

 

 

*

 

 

_LV-212, USM Medical Research Facility, 2479 AD_

The man that greets him at the dry-dock is not Dr. Sebastian Shaw. Instead he's tall and on the verge of being too thin, his paleness marking him as someone who's lived without seeing the sun for a fair amount of time. Charles assumes from the overalls he's one of the maintenance crew, but the badge he sports has Level Seven clearance on it. "I hope the drop went smoothly," he says, sounding as if he doesn't care to hear an answer. He starts walking towards the far end and Charles almost has to break into a run to catch up. There's a guard in black fatigues and a menacing looking gun standing at attention at the door where his guide scans his ID, glancing up at Charles to make sure the picture matches before he nods his head.

Through the door and left, he tells Charles, "There's a map on every fifth door console, in case you ever get lost. You're cleared to Level Six, so Sections Twenty-Eight to Seventy-Five are off limits. Any breach in security will be met by authorized use of deadly force, so please try not to wander in that direction while desperately searching for the head."

"Is that what happened to the last guy?" Charles asks.

This gets him a sharp, unamused stare. "Would you like to be taken to your quarters or would you rather meet Dr. Shaw first."

"Might as well get it over with," Charles says. "And I didn't catch your name, I'm afraid."

"That's because I didn't offer one." He stops abruptly in front of yet another door. This one's unguarded, but requires a keypad to unlock. "Welcome to Prometheus." he says, as the door hisses open.

-

"Did Erik introduce himself? I bet he didn't." Dr. Shaw wags his finger at Erik, who only stands still, legs apart and hands clasped behind his back. There's a strange undercurrent of something that Charles doesn't quite understand, files away for future dissection. "I also bet he told you they'd shoot you if you wandered off in the wrong direction." He pauses. "That part's true, by the way."

"If I'm no longer needed here," Erik interjects.

"No," Shaw says distractedly as he shakes Charles' hand, beckons for him to sit down. "Stay."

"I need to check temperature readings. There's a consistent fluctuation in the temperature readings in Chamber Three. If there's a malfunction -"

"Oh fine," Shaw waves his hand impatiently. "Go. Work. Everyone here's a workaholic." He leans forward and tells Charles conspiratorially, "Can't blame them, to be honest. This planet is a fucking wasteland. The only excitement to be gotten here is the work, I'm afraid. I'm so very happy you're here, by the way, Dr. Xavier. You're a -"

Charles interrupts, "When can I get started."

Sebastian Shaw grins. "Oh, not you too. I'm busy, but Erik's probably on Level Five, he can give you a tour. If you can find him, he'll show you around. If he says no, just tell him I told him to."

-

"Did he really?" Erik somehow manages to make it sound as if it's the most ludicrous suggestion he's ever heard with a mere a head tilt.

"You don't have to," Charles replies, trying on the smile that works on disarming most people. Erik's expression doesn't change. "I suppose if I get lost I'll just try my best not to wander into the areas that will get me shot, then."

Erik sighs. "Shaw will kill me if anything happens to you. Come along, Xavier."

It's not much of a tour, and Erik's not much of a tour guide. One hallway blends into another into another, and by the end of it Charles has a headache and still has no real clue how he'll navigate from one section to another. "Have you been here long, Erik," Charles asks.

"Yes." He points to the left. "That's the mess. We work around the clock, so there's always food. Not edible food, mind you."

Charles chuckles, but Erik's already moved on. Towards an elevator and up, when they exit he turns right and then right again and then halts in front of yet another nondescript door. "Your quarters," he says, at Charles' raised brow. "You should probably get some rest. The fatigue from cryo-sleep will hit you right about -" Charles staggers slightly back as a wave of nausea hits him. "- now."

The door slides open obediently when Charles breathes into it. He steps inside and by the time the disorientation fades enough for him to focus, Erik's already halfway back up the hallway. "Erik," Charles calls out. Erik pauses and looks around patiently. "Thanks for the tour. I'll see you later?"

Erik only nods his head briefly, before he resumes walking.

Charles sends a message as soon as the door slides closed behind him: Weather's all clear. Waiting for response.

Moira replies shortly after: Keep looking skywards.

Message sent, he collapses onto his bunk and falls quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-

Erik shoots him a wary glance when Charles comes to find him, bent over a console in deep discussion with a man who ignores him until he sticks his hand out, "Charles Xavier. Nice to meet you -"

"Dr. Azel. Biology," he says, in an accent that Charles places as coming from the Beta Colonies, which he dimly recollects as having been involved in a long, protracted civil war that's lasted half a century. He looks Charles up and down before he turns back to Erik. "Will try modulation. Temperature readings should stabilize by tomorrow." He nods his head at them both before exiting smoothly from the room.

"How long has he been here," Charles asks.

"Long enough." At Charles' raised brow he sighs. "If you have a question, ask him yourself. Be prepared for a punch in a face if you do so, though." His face relaxes into something akin to a smile. "You look as if you could use a good punch, Xavier."

"Is that a threat?"

"Now why would I do that," Erik says, his attention diverting itself back towards the console. "I've only just met you."

"You look so familiar though," Charles replies. "Are you certain we've not met before."

"I believe I'd remember you if I had. Now if you'll excuse me."

"No, yes. I suppose it'll come to me eventually." Erik doesn't bother looking up, and Charles decides the tour might have to wait. "If I ask you to show me to Shaw's quarters you'll probably tell me to look at the map, won't you?" There's no response, just the barest twitches of an eyebrow. Charles sighs and spins around, in search of a console.

-

The goat is calm enough until it's put inside the chamber, tethered to a hook in the wall. Then it starts to bleat, even though the pod is still closed, the creature inside it not yet aware that there's a ready host.

"What happens if there's more than one host," Charles asks Erik, who's taking down notes on a pad and frowning faintly.

"Then it goes for the nearest. Unless one of them is human. It always goes for the human host first."

Charles wants to ask him how he knows that, but the pod starts to open. He leans closer, puts his palms against the glass to watch as small, spindly legs start to creep out. The goat's bleating becomes even more panicked, and Charles winces. "Could we cut the two-way, please. The sound is distracting."

"Are you serious?"

"You may have done this a million times before, Erik. But I haven't."

Erik's gaze is flat. "Then it's as good a time as any to get used to it." He pauses. "Why are you here?"

"What kind of a question is that."

"You've had a teaching position for the past five years. And I don't know if it's escaped you somehow, but this is a weapons development program. The endgame here is practical use and profit. Biological warfare."

Charles turns back in time to watch the creature launch itself at the face of the terrified goat. It's given up by now, stopped fighting. Instead it just falls to the floor, legs twitching desperately. "I don't need tenure," he says. "And I'm perfectly aware of what this is. When's the soonest I can go in for an examination."

"Well then." Erik slams his fist against a red button and a door to the right of them hisses quietly open. "After you, Xavier."

-

In his quarters, Charles sends another message: The weather's getting worse.

The response takes a while: Prepare for rain.

-

The mess is surprisingly packed. Charles hadn't been aware there were that many people on the planet. He barely bumps into anyone save for the people working on the same project. Charles grabs a tray of food and makes his way to the corner of the room. "May I join you?"

"If you must," Erik says, his tone indicating that he would like anything but.

Charles smiles and sets his tray down. "Well, this certainly looks. Appetizing," he says, as he slides into the bench across from Erik.

Erik blinks at him, looks nonplussed. "Did you want something, Xavier."

"No, I was mer-"

"I usually lunch alone."

"Ah. Would you like me to sit somewhere else then?" Charles casts a perfunctory glance across the room, searching for an empty seat.

"No, you can stay if you'd like."

"Your generosity is appreciated."

Erik reaches for his drink, and when he's done with it abruptly stands. "If you'll excuse me."

Charles watches after him as he walks out, his body all lean grace and bundled tension, face strange and familiar in a way he can't quite put his finger on. When it comes to him, Erik has already left the canteen.

He almost runs out into the hallway, food untouched, calls after Erik. "No, wait. Hang on. I realized -" Erik doesn't respond, he just continues to walk, so Charles walks with him until he stops and turns, face as strange and impassive as it's ever been. "Forgive me," Charles says. "It's just I've never seen the likes of you before. After Viktor vs Nagami and the subsequent culling - I'd heard rumors of private, illegal ownership but. I'm sorry, again. But your existence is a violation of so many laws I just -"

"Well, that's a bit of an overreaction, isn't it?" Erik doesn't turn his head, and his flinch is barely noticeable when Shaw claps a hand around the back of his neck. "Don't you know who this is? This is Dr. Erik Lehnsherr. Surely you did your research."

And it hits Charles then, of course he knows who Erik is. He always had.

-

"So I told the company, I said what I really want is Dr. Erik Lehnsherr. Ask him a few questions, dissect his brain a little. They programmed some ridiculous AI interface for me," Shaw rolls his eyes, "then gave me one but in a T2." At Charles' look he continues, "They don't exist on the market yet. But the original source died before they could upload any useful data into the stream, so I said, why don't you give make me a fucking clone? And so they did." He puts his finger to his lips, says cheerfully, "You won't tell anyone, will you, Xavier."

He's completely and utterly mad, Charles thinks, even as he nods his head, makes a promise he knows he'll keep, despite everything. Every clone to be brought back to its manufacturer and neutralized. Charles was a child when the first wave of cullings started, but he remembers his mom being terrified of a full-out war. Waves upon waves of clones fighting for their rights to exist. It never happened, they went quietly, for the most part, and they disappeared. Except now there's Erik. Walking alongside Charles and Shaw both, entirely removed from the conversation even as it centers around him. "I won't tell anyone," Charles says again, tearing his eyes away from where Erik is steadfastly not looking at him. "You have my word."

"Good man," Shaw says, and squeezes his arm.

-

"No hybrid has lived beyond a few days," Shaw says. He holds both hands out, palms facing upwards, in Erik's direction. "And here we have the man himself, and not even he can give me an answer. Years of my life's work. I get so disappointed sometimes. He's supposed to be a genius. Figure it out already."

Erik glances up from splicing a tissue sample, comments blandly, "Perhaps the moral of this little story is that cloning only gives you a copy, and you cannot replace an original blueprint."

"He's so negative. Possibly I should have made more of an effort to inject some optimism into him." Shaw sighs. "It's not an exact science anyway. I did my best." He leans into Charles and pats him reassuringly on the back. "I have faith in you though, Xavier. Both of you."

Charles stares at Erik, who continues working as if he's not heard a word Shaw has said. Except for how his jaw is clenched, but Shaw doesn't seem to notice at all. "I'll do my best," he tells Shaw distractedly. "But you should probably let us get back to work. We're running behind as it is. The next cycle of eggs are primed to open in an hour." When Shaw finally leaves, Charles asks quietly, "Does it bother you, that he talks about you as if you weren't here?"

Erik finishes splicing the sample, slides it carefully onto a petri dish. "It's not my place to be bothered. Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean."

"You scientists are exactly the same. It's either pity or fascination, or some twisted combination of both. There are enough lab rats here for you to experiment on. Don't assume that I'm fair game as well."

"But," Charles splutters, startled into honesty. "It's wrong. It's an ethics violation at the very least."

"Shut up," Erik says, and at the tone of his voice every other word Charles had planned to say dies. "Do you know nothing at all about the way things work. No-one cares, Charles. Not even the USM. They just want results. Erik Lehnsherr, when he died, in what they're calling an _accident,_ when LV-200 went nuclear and took with it every single piece of research that existed - they've been trying to recreate his work for years. This is the closest they've come yet. No-one's going to sabotage that by launching an inquiry into illegal cloning."

"Especially not when the clone is the reason why they're here to begin with. Right, of course." Charles rubs at the back of his neck wearily, feels a tension headache start to build.

"He's learning. That's good." Erik shoots him one final look before leaning down to peer into the microscope holding his sample, "You might survive this place yet."

-

Interview Room #2 [0900hrs, 20.11.2430 AD]  
 **Conducted by:** Dr. Erik Lehnsherr  
 **Subject:** Raven #8

"Good morning, Raven."

"Good morning, Erik. And how are you this morning?"

"I'm fine, how about yourself?"

"Fine as well."

"Did you sleep well?"

"The usual."

"Not better or worse?"

"No."

"The last time we spoke you said the dreams were getting more intense."

"They're not dreams, okay. I keep telling you that. She's calling to me. She wants me to go to her."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Scared."

-

When Charles comes into the break room, Erik is at a table, playing some sort of card game with Janos. Charles grabs a cup of coffee and sits himself apart from the two of them. Twenty-four hours on no sleep and he's entirely wired and about ready to collapse. He shoots a pointed look in Erik's direction, but Erik seems content to ignore him and continue sipping from a glass of what looks like whiskey, sharing the occasional companionable grin with Janos, and it's the most relaxed that Charles has ever seen him, in all the time that he's been here. Curious. Charles falls deeper into his seat and drinks his coffee, watches them both until he gets bored, which is soon enough. He's almost asleep until Erik's voice startles him, "Xavier, would you like a drink?"

"I already have a drink." Charles waves vaguely at his cold cup of coffee. He rubs at his eyes as Erik appears in front of him. Janos is gone, some distant part of him notices.

"How do you stand him," Charles asks. Erik turns vaguely towards the door.

"Janos? He's all right. For an android. I don't actually think the company's aware of what they've created."

"And what is that, exactly."

Erik holds the bottle out to him instead of replying. "Here. Might help you sleep better." At Charles expression he continues, "Everyone here's just doing their job."

"Somehow," Charles mutters, the alcohol thick and bitter on his tongue, "I doubt that."

Erik tilts his head. "You're deeply unpleasant when you're exhausted. I suggest you get some sleep."

"I don't - hey." He grabs Erik's sleeve as Erik makes to leave, says, "Don't go. You can teach me how to play, what was that?"

Erik furrows his brows. "Go back to your quarters, Xavier. Get some rest. Take the bottle with you if you must." Charles only blinks at him though, and in the end Erik sighs, grabs a chair.

-

"We're still using human hosts?"

"Not human," Erik says, bending over the small, still frame of a girl no more than twenty years old. "Clones. The government outsourced the final rounds of culling to an external contractor that went bankrupt before they could dispose of the bodies. Most of them were alive still, kept in stasis."

"Ah, I see." He gazes upwards at rows of pods, stacked like shiny silver bullets. "How many?"

"Three hundred, give or take."

"That's quite a few."

Erik finishes examining the tag attached to the girl's leg, nods in satisfaction. "To build an army you need ready hosts. They're cheaper than livestock at this point."

Charles bends down and puts his fingers to the base of a pale throat. "Will she be awake for this."

"They do wake up sometimes. Difficult to tell for sure."

"Then make sure," Charles says.

Erik's gaze on him is frank, accessing. "You don't belong here, you know. And I honestly cannot for the life of me figure out why you are."

"So you insist on reminding me." Charles avoids looking at him, focuses instead on calming the thudding of his heart.

"I'm not wrong." He rises abruptly to his feet in one swift motion, then holds his hand out to pull Charles up as well. "Take my advice." The way he says it sounds more like a warning than advice. Charles feels faintly nauseous. "If you need to be sick, I suggest you step outside."

He makes it all the way back to his quarters before he throws up.

-

"How long have you been here?" Charles asks.

"Why don't you ask me the question you came to ask me, Xavier." He's leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. Still wearing his jumpsuit, and Charles wonders if these are all the clothes he has. The room is spare and utilitarian, but Charles hadn't expected anything less. Much like his own, but his isn't a prison. Or probably he's just misleading himself. _Of course there's a non-disclosure clause_ , the chipper blonde had told him as she handed him a pen to sign with. _What, tell anyone and you'll incarcerate me for the rest of my life,_ Charles had replied, smiling at her. She hadn't responded, and her smile had continued to not reach her eyes. "And please don't just stand at the door if you plan to come in," Erik says.

Charles jumps when the door slides shut behind him, and the room is too small; even at the entrance he is far too close to Erik. "I didn't mean to be intrusive. You don't have to tell me anything."

"Five," Erik says. "That's the answer to both your questions. I was born - made, right here."

"And how -"

"Accelerated growth. Accelerated learning. The same tech they use on the T2."

"But that's not possible," Charles exclaims. "The human brain isn't designed to absorb information in that manner. And if it did, it must have been excruciati-" He stops, then, because Erik's face has gone dark. If not mutinous, then certainly unwelcoming. "Do you want me to leave."

"You probably should. But I _am_ USM property. As a Level Six employee, you're entitled to use of its facilities up to said level. I am in no position to want you to do anything."

"But do you want me to stay, Erik." Three steps, and they're close enough to touch. Charles' hand rises, almost of its own volition. Traces the fine bone structure; the lines around Erik's eyes. He certainly doesn't look brand new, but when Charles' fingers move to his lips he shudders, and starts.

"Don't," he says. "I can't. I never."

"Oh," Charles says, and kisses him anyway.

-

Interview Room #2 [0900hrs, 04.01.2431 AD]  
 **Conducted by:** Dr. Erik Lehnsherr  
 **Subject:** Raven #8

"I realized yesterday if I cut my arm I could bleed through any lock you put in a room. I could get away."

"None of your rooms are locked, Raven."

"No, but where'd I go, right? Who'd want a freak of nature like me."

"Raven -"

"Besides, if I left who'd protect you from them."

-

Charles has a headache. Its been building since he arrived here, a low level throb right at the base of his skull, but now it's so bad he can barely move. Janos shows up, bypasses the security lock with barely a pause just so Charles knows exactly how private and secure his quarters are, and hands him a little green pill.

"What are these?" He peers closer at them through the haze of pain. "These aren't approved yet. Not supposed to be on the market until next year."

Janos just hands him a glass of water, and at some point Charles should just cease to be surprised. He shouldn't have been to begin with - he wasn't that naive, just apparently hopelessly optimistic. He swallows the pill dutifully, and when he opens his eyes again his headache is gone. Erik is leaning over him, small smile on his face. His hand hovers over Charles' brow uncertainly. "Are you all right? Janos told me -"

"So it's only me he refuses to speak to, then." He moves, but winces when pain spikes through his head. "You can tell Janos his magic pill doesn't work."

"It's this planet," Erik says. "You've never worked offworld before, have you?" There's an amused tinge to his voice that Charles has never heard before.

"I used to spend summers in Riza, does that count?" Until he was thirteen, vacations that started out promising but always ended up with his stepfather disappearing for days on end and his mother pretending she didn't care by drowning herself in drink and any man that would pay attention to her on the beach. That was when he learned how to dive, the year he realized there were a million other species, different and beautiful and sometimes just utterly alien, teeming everywhere, unnoticed by most people unless they were cute and covered in fur or ugly and lured by the scent of food.

"Not quite. It's psychosomatic. There's a different pill for that one."

"I just feel as if I can't breathe. Like the walls are going to collapse in on me at any time."

"You just need some time to adjust. After a while, you barely even notice where you are anymore."

"I can't imagine ever not noticing that I'm stuck here."

"And I still don't understand why you are." He sounds fond, if a little distracted.

"Join me."

Erik abruptly pulls further away. "There's work to be done. Shaw is expecting -" He doesn't stop Charles when he latches on to his index finger and tugs, though. "The bunk is too small for the two of us."

"We've been managing thus far."

Erik sighs, but folds his long limbs downwards. Charles scoots over to make room, adjusts both their bodies together until he's comfortable. Erik's heart beats, reassuringly, against his own. "You're a very odd man, Xavier."

"Speak from experience, do you." Erik stiffens, and Charles says, "I didn't mean that, I apologize. I'd blame the headache but I put my foot in my mouth on a regular basis, so that's no excuse." Erik pulls away slightly, his fingers feather light on Charles' cheek. He looks confused rather than angry, as if he can't figure out what he's doing here. Charles clutches him tighter still, and he relaxes, but doesn't stop looking confused. "Five years," Charles murmurs. He's watched videos of clones being born before. They came out screaming, down to the very last one. No-one could understand why. They were blank slates in adult form, no memories, no history, empty vessels to be shaped in whichever way its owners saw fit. And yet, invariably, they screamed as if someone was dying, as if they couldn't stop. He'd thought it cruel then, and now -

"Don't worry," Erik says. "No-one else ever stays here that long."

-

"You should be more careful," Charles says. "You have no idea what these creatures are capable of. One accident is all it takes for another incident."

"That's fine," Erik replies. "If they lose me they can just make a new one."

"Well, _I_ certainly don't see you as replaceable."

Erik only scowls, and walks into the birthing chamber without a protective suit on. Defiant, Charles thinks, mentally cataloguing yet another trait of Erik's that makes him not just a clone, not just a subservient copy of a man that once helmed the creation of an entirely new species.

"I know what you're thinking," Shaw says, because Charles has been hovering outside the security glass, barely concentrating on his work. He presses the buzzer for the intercom, says, "Erik. Get out of that chamber and into decontamination now, please. Oh, and don't ever do something this foolish again." Erik stops what he's doing, his gaze fixed on Charles and not on Shaw. "Erik," Shaw says, and he sounds all the world like a disappointed father. Erik nods his head once, sharp, and stalks out.

Charles watches the pods as they glisten, open and shut like grotesque baby birds desperately seeking their mothers' regurgitated food, until Shaw says, "Come, Xavier." He motions for Charles to follow him, and as they're walking he says conversationally, "I know, you know. I mean, I want you to know that I know. And that's okay too, hey, we all have our kinks. Back when they were still legal, parents were handing them out to their children as coming-of-age presents like candy. You missed that, I imagine. Shame." He sighs wistfully, and Charles has to force himself not to step away. "The best ones had the shortest life spans; couldn't be reused. But."

"But," Charles says, and stops in the middle of the hallway. "But."

"The thing is, Erik is one of a kind, see. He's not an empty shell that just looks like Dr. Erik Lehnsherr. He didn't need thirty years of us teaching him how to go potty, spell the alphabet, go through the hormone horror that is puberty, only to find out that he's not half the man that the original was. I made him, and he is perfect." He spreads his hands wide, the picture of geniality. "So I don't care if you fuck him. Hey, I get it. Novelties are always in demand. You could possibly have asked, but I might have said no, and anyway that ship has sailed, so here we are."

"Did you want me to stop?"

Shaw's gaze is sharp. "No, of course not. You're a valuable member of the team, and from the work you've done in the short time you've been here, I would hardly penalize you by making you stop sticking your dick where you want." Charles turns his face away, thinks of Erik on his knees, his mouth wrapped around Charles' cock. Thinks of him as he grips the sheets when Charles fucks him, of his fingers in Charles' mouth when he's the one doing the fucking. "Needs must, after all," Shaw continues cheerfully. "I can probably even arrange to give you another one if you'd like, after this is over. Well, not exactly like this. Perhaps you might like one less prone to disobedience."

"I quite like him the way he is, actually," Charles mutters, but Shaw isn't listening.

"But understand that ultimately, Erik is Weyland-Yutani property, and by extension, that means he belongs to me. Please tell me you understand."

Charles makes his face blank, and thinks faintly that the studied expression of careful neutrality that just about everyone wears around here is learnt from when they got here, and conversations exactly like this, and says, "I most definitely understand, Dr. Shaw."

-

Erik is waiting in his room, sitting still on his bed when Charles finally gets back. "I saw you walking off with Shaw," he says. "What did he tell you."

"Nothing important," Charles says.

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you ask too many questions." He reaches out and pulls Erik's head back by his hair, kisses him hard. "That gets you nowhere."

He would mark Erik as his, dig his fingers into his flesh until they spelled his name, except Erik had already been marked, everywhere that counted. Except Erik's fingers are wrapped around his wrist, and he easily twists Charles' arm behind his back and shoves him face-flat onto the bed. His other arm on the nape of Charles' neck, holding him still as he instinctively tries to break free. "Please," Charles moans, as Erik kicks his legs apart with his knee, slides in between them.

"Hush," Erik says. His lips graze the pulse of Charles' throat, and Charles shakes. Erik fucks him slow and hard and deliberate, and everything hurts, but then Erik whispers in his ear, harsh, "Charles, I want you to. I want," and Charles keens, and shudders, and comes.

-

Interview Room #2 [0900hrs, 06.01.2431 AD]  
 **Conducted by:** Dr. Erik Lehnsherr  
 **Subject:** Raven #8

"I'll protect you, don't worry. From her. From them. I won't let them touch you."

"Raven, you do realize -"

"That you made me? Yeah, I know. I guess that kinda makes you my dad, right?"

"I'm not your father. I'm a scientist. This is my job."

"Hold my hand."

"Raven."

"Please. You're the only one that's not afraid."

-

Dr. Erik Lehnsherr smiles broadly at the camera. "One of the more interesting and unique aspects of the species is that it takes on the characteristics of its host while still retaining its basic xenomorphic structure." He points to the glass screen behind him. "Test subject 257 is a human male clone, aged fourteen. It doesn't matter what physical age or condition the host body is, any adult xenomorph will be identical so long as its host is of a particular species and living. That the blood is corrosive is an -"

"What are you doing," Erik asks.

Charles pauses the video and says, "Shaw gave me access to all the video recordings made by the original project team. I have to say, Dr. Lehnsherr's facial hair is truly spectacular. I'm glad you chose to go another way."

"I've been through all of these. They're of no use to anyone." Erik holds out a hand, but when Charles refuses to hand over the remote he scowls. "Suit yourself. I'll be in the lab if you need me." He stalks out, and Charles frowns faintly in his direction before turning his attention back to the screen, paused on Dr. Lehnsherr's smiling face.

-

"What do you remember," Charles asks. He slides out, then sinks back into Erik. They've been doing this for a while now, the second time, and Charles just keeps talking, and talking, and sliding his fingers across Erik's body, everywhere he can reach. His long legs, the narrow dip of his waist. Sweat and come and heart and soul, and he moves, and Erik whimpers, presses the back of his hands against the bunkhead wall. "Do you remember people?"

"I remember some people. He had a wife, two children. Shaw likes to tell me how kind he is, that he left such happy memories in. My childhood - he couldn't cut those out."

"Developmental necessities, of course," Charles mutters, laying little bites along Erik's jaw. Shaw will see them, and comment. Charles doesn't care. His fingers wander to where Erik's cock is trapped between their bodies, hard and almost flat against his belly. Charles strokes him lazily, just to hear him whimper again, to make him moan Charles' name. "What else do you remember?"

"I remember dying," Erik says then, and Charles stops.

-

He decides to watch the existing raw footage rather than the official videos put together for potential investors, even though most of it is useless: random wide-angle shots of the planet exterior (one hostile planet is equivalent to another, it would seem), the scientific team fooling around during their downtime. Dr. Erik Lehnsherr is quick to laugh, but short-tempered and intensely focused when working. Insists on listening to bad, early twenty-second century music that drives the rest of his team crazy when he chooses to pipe it into the lab, and is very possibly, from the way he whispers warmly into the ear of his lovely young lab tech with his hand on the small of her back, having an illicit affair. His general air of confidence and satisfaction wanes though, the further along he gets.

Charles pauses once, at a moment where he's, surely unaware that the camera was on, arguing with another scientist. "You don't understand," he snarls, quiet and desperate. "We can't control them. If they are released on any planet at all, it will decimate the entire -"

The feed cuts off abruptly. Charles rewinds it, watches it on a loop, over and over again.

-

He's sending another communique to Moira when Erik walks in. "What are you doing," he asks.

Charls shrugs and presses send. "Just a message to a family friend," he says neutrally. "She worries."

"I didn't know you had such a thing." Erik looks surprised. "Friends, that is."

"Everyone has friends," Charles says. "Even those of us that chose to come here."

"And family?"

"Can we not talk about this please," Charles says flatly. "You'll want to be introduced to them next."

Erik's eyes narrow, but in the end he only shrugs and lets the matter drop.

-

It's Shaw that gives him access to all the interviews that Dr. Lensherr conducted with Raven #8. "She was a beautiful girl," he murmurs. "Amazing creature. Such a waste." He squeezes Charles' arm as Charles settles in to watch, ignoring his silent pleas for him to disappear. At one point he turns abruptly towards Charles, "You've been of great help to us so far, Xavier."

"Thank you, I try," Charles says, perfectly neutral.

"There's no room for sentimentality here, you do realize that."

Charles has to laugh at that. "You sound like Erik."

"That's because I made him." He crosses his arms and beams at Charles. Charles looks away, idly tugs at the material of his pants. "It's perfectly fine if you dislike me, Charles. It happens. I'm not sure why, I like to think I'm perfectly charming. But ah well. You can't please everyone, can you."

"I never said that."

Shaw shakes his head. "No, like I said, it's perfectly fine. Just continue to do your excellent work, my good man."

"Thank you," Charles says, and something inside him breaks away and dies. He wants nothing more than to find Erik, grab him, and get him away from all this madness.

"I wish you'd stop," Erik says, when Charles stumbles back into his quarters. His voice is neutral, but there's an edge to it that Charles can't quite decipher. Or perhaps he can.

"Nothing else we're doing is helping. It certainly can't hurt."

"It's a waste of time," he snarls, and when he stands he looks dangerous, menacing even. "Why don't you trust me when I say that they're of no use, even though I've seen them. Even though I was _there._ "

"It's not a matter of trust, Erik," Charles says. "Why don't you do your job, and let me do what I must."

"Fine," Erik says, as deeply unhappy as he's ever been.

"You're not him, you know," Charles tells him, drifting closer, because he can't help himself. "You're nothing at all alike."

Erik's laugh is bitter. "That's pretty fucking obvious, I should think." His eyes darken. "Why are you really here, Charles."

"I told you, I'm a scientist. The species is remarkable."

"No," Erik says. He takes Charles' chin into his hand, forces him to look up. "That's not why. All your heart does is bleed. Why are you here."

Charles wrenches himself away from Erik's grasp, but Erik grabs his arm and pushes him into the wall, his fingers gripping tight enough into Charles' arms to hurt. Charles lets out a shuddering breath and says, "Are you going to hurt me?"

"No," Erik says, and releases him abruptly, his hands falling loosely to his sides. "I would never. I could never."

"Then stop asking me questions that you know I won't answer." He leans against the wall, but his legs have lost their strength and so he just slides, collapses onto the floor.

-

Erik brings him outside. Drags him, really. Charles had seen glimpses of the planet as the ship had started to dock, and it had been more than enough. LV-212 was originally designated for terraforming and resettlement, but not even the best efforts of the original contractors could make it remotely hospitable. Charles had read that Weyland-Yutani bought over the development rights for a steal, redesigned half-built structures purely for weapons research. He stumbles over black rock as they climb up a ravine, almost falling backwards until Erik grabs him, holds him steady. "This was a bad idea," Charles complains. "I've seen the planet now, can we go back in to where it's warm, please."

Charles is freezing, but Erik doesn't seem to notice the cold at all. Instead he just grins at Charles before he turns back and starts climbing again, calling over his shoulder, "Follow my step. You'll be fine."

When they finally reach the top they find: even more black rock. Miles and miles of it over a steep, sudden drop, neverending in its uniformity. "Impressive," Charles says, but there's a strange, distant expression on Erik's face so he bites his tongue on saying anything else.

"Shaw never held me prisoner. Never locked the doors, never restricted my access to the facility, save for the weapons locker and the more sensitive areas of the facility. The first chance I could, when I realized exactly who and what I was, I ran. That access hatch we just climbed out of, I stumbled across it by accident. It was winter then." He shoots a sideways glance at Charles, shivering in his overcoat. "This is warm weather, by the way." Charles shakes his head. "There was ice everywhere, and I could barely see. Still I kept climbing. If I'd been smart I'd have headed straight for the docking bay and taken my chances on a transport ship, but I wasn't really thinking, I just wanted to get out. It took me forever to get to exactly where we're standing right now. I was half-dead by then, and if I'd taken two more steps, well."

Charles looks downwards and feels dizzy, lightheaded. Erik grabs him again, holds him with solid, sure hands. "Steady," he says. "The air's too thin. Relax before you start hyperventilating."

Charles clutches at Erik's overalls with gloved fingers that feel disconnected from the rest of his body until everything stops spinning. "I'm fine," he says finally, but he stays leaning into Erik. "So what happened. Did they come for you?"

"No," Erik says simply. "I gave up. I don't think Shaw even noticed I was gone."

-

An embryo floats in a sea of amniotic fluid: vitals are steady and growth is remarkable. Shaw comes into the lab, slaps Charles on the back and says, "This is the one. I can feel it. Can't you feel it, Charles? I knew you'd be good luck when I brought you in. We should be ready for Phase II soon, all goes well."

Charles steps away as gracefully as he can, glances towards Erik, standing by the embryo chamber, looking up. Utterly motionless, as if he were a painting still in shock at being brought to life. "Erik," Shaw says, finally acknowledging Erik's even there. "Don't you feel proud? She's your baby, after all."

And Erik turns his head, but he's looking at Charles, not at Shaw when he says, "Of course I am. Ecstatic. But they do keep -"

"Dying, yes." Shaw smiles. "But now we have Charles. I don't see why there should be any more failures. Do you, Charles?"

"No," Charles says. "Raven #13 should be perfect." None of the others should have died either, but he doesn't tell Shaw that. Instead he watches Erik's face as it slips into shadow, as the man himself drifts away, deliberately avoiding Charles.

-

Interview Room #2 [0900hrs, 08.01.2431 AD]  
 **Conducted by:** Dr. Erik Lehnsherr  
 **Subject:** Raven #8

"So I'm supposed to lead an army of these things, really?"

"Well, not you, perhaps."

"Are you going to breed me then? Clone me? Please just let me die. Why won't you just let me die."

"Nothing bad's going to happen to you. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Erik. I know when you lie. You have a tell."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

-

In Erik's quarters, afterwards, Charles traces the lines of Erik's face with his fingertips while Erik watches him. Strange that those eyes used to belong to someone else: images overlap in his head sometimes, memories play tricks.

"You should be happier than you are," Charles says.

"Happiness," Erik's lips flatten. "You mistake me for a real person."

"You're real enough to me. She -"

"She," Erik cuts in, and he sounds angry, for the first time that Charles has known him. Truly furious. "She shouldn't exist. We both know that."

Charles lets his hand drop, but Erik catches his wrist with his fingers, presses his palm to his heart. Charles breathes in, sharp, and says, "Remember you asked me once. Why I was here."

"I remember." His head drops, and Charles wants to smooth his hair away from his face, wants to tell him everything will be okay. Wants to tell him he'll take care of it all. Funny, that, when he's been in over his head from just about the second he stepped onto this godforsaken planet. "You're a scientist," Erik mutters tiredly, all the rage bled out from him as if it had never been there to begin with. "Look what you just did. Made her real. I tried, I tried -"

Charles puts his fingers to Erik's lips once more, to shut him up more than anything else. "No," he says. "That's not why I'm really here."

-

Janos and Erik are playing cards when Charles wanders in to get coffee. Twenty-four hours of watching the embryo develop, Charles imagines if he stares long enough he can see her grow, but it seems to only happen when he closes his eyes. Charles retrieves his coffee and pulls up a chair and Janos makes room for him, deals him in. "Why is this coffee so terrible," he complains.

"Azel pisses in it every shift," Janos says.

"It sure tastes like it." Charles picks up his cards. An hour later and he's beating everyone. "Guess it's my lucky day," he says, yawning to get a crick out of his jaw. Janos chuckles and throws his cards down.

"I'm done," he says, and nods his head towards them both as he scrapes back his chair to stand up. Erik nods genially in return as Charles smiles a goodbye. When he's gone Erik deals another round, but instead of playing he just tosses his hand onto the table and rubs his face wearily. "I'm sorry," Charles says, "I realize it must be difficult to swallow."

"Difficult?" Erik laughs, hollow and bleak. "You have no idea what he'll do to you if he finds out, Charles. The company doesn't tolerate spies as a general rule, let alone terrorists, but Shaw, Shaw will take it personally. And I've seen his personal side. You do not want to be on it."

"I'm not a terrorist," Charles replies firmly. "I just want to do what's right."

"What's right," Erik says, and his hand is suddenly in Charles' hair, pulling him close enough that their foreheads touch. "What's right is that you stay out of my way, Charles, and do nothing at all. Do you understand me?"

"You can't expect to just let this go on, especially not now."

Erik's mouth is close enough to Charles that Charles can feel his breath when he speaks. "I said you stay out of it. As in, do not interfere with my plans." Charles pulls back, and studies Erik's face carefully, but he's as impassive as he's ever been. "Please. Tell me you understand, please. I just need some time. Be patient." Eventually, he just nods his head, and Erik releases his grip.

-

He sends a communique to Moira. Two hours sitting in front of the keyboard, trying to decide if he should. Finally, he just closes his eyes and hits send. The message says: The weather's turned south.

-

Erik's walking down one of those endless, dark hallways when Charles grabs him. He's been waiting there for a while, and he tries to pull him into a corner, but Erik's arm snakes around his throat and Charles can't breathe as it starts to crush his windpipe. He's released as fast as he's grabbed though, and when he stops coughing Erik says, "What the hell. I could have killed you." He shoves Charles into a recess, asks, "Are you okay."

"Other than my pride, I'm perfectly fine."

"Wonderful." Erik makes to move away, but Charles grabs him again, gently this time. Tugs on the collar of his overalls until he follows Charles into the recess, body pressed against body. "I'm late," he mutters, but indulgently. "Shaw wants a report, post haste."

"Erik," Charles says.

Erik's entire body stiffens, but he doesn't step away. Instead he asks, "What did you do, Charles."

"What he did, my dear Erik. That's an interesting question to ask, wouldn't you say."

Erik turns his head in Shaw's direction. The man himself doesn't look all that upset. Instead he's just shaking his head in disappointment. "Terrorists," he says. "On my watch. Well, I never." His smile fades abruptly. "And you, Erik. I expected it from Charles, but from you."

"He had nothing do with this this," Charles cuts in. "Leave him out of this."

"Shut up," Erik says. "Just, shut up."

-

Everything turns hazy after that: Erik, at one point, launching himself at Shaw, and Charles going after him, but then Azazel shows up, and after that not much else. He wakes up once, feeling as if he's drowning. His cheek is pressed against the floor and he can hear faint skittering of claws across it. Screaming. He screams, unable to stop, until finally, blissfully, he slips back into unconsciousness.

"Open your eyes," someone is saying urgently. "Xavier, open them."

Charles squints up at him. "Janos, what. Where am I?"

"Shaw wants to see you." His smile is grim. "He says he wants you to watch. I'm sorry."

-

Shaw is smiling when Janos pushes Charles into his office. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out eventually," he's telling Erik. "Ah, Charles. I'm glad you could join us."

Charles glances from him to Erik, slumped over and chained to a chair.

"Oh, he's fine," Shaw tells Charles conversationally, grabbing Erik's hair and lifting his head up. Erik doesn't resist. One of his eyes is swollen, half-closed, and there's blood on the side of his face. "I'm not generally a man prone to violence, you understand. I have to say though, I am truly disappointed in him. And in you, Charles. Although it's to be expected, considering." He releases Erik abruptly, and Erik collapses back down inside himself. "Relationships should be built on trust, not lies and sabotage."

"I already told you to leave him out of this. You've got me, what more do you want."

Shaw crosses his arms across his chest and leans against his desk. "Do you truly not know or are you just protecting him? How quaintly romantic, if so." He pauses. "Oh, and if you're still imagining your friend Moira will be sending someone to rescue you, I wouldn't. I had to interrupt your communique, sadly."

"Okay," Charles says, not really caring. "I'll do whatever you want," he adds. "I can fix it. Just let him go. Please." He tries to tug himself out of Janos's grip, but it's like he's being held by steel, so he gives up, settles on looking harmless. Contrite. Mostly contrite. "I can fix it," he repeats.

Shaw's grin fades away. "Of course you can. And you will. For whatever time you have left, at least. But it will be because it's what you're contracted to do, not because you're trying to bargain a chip that's not actually on the table." He kneels down in front of Erik, caresses his cheek. Erik flinches. "Just because I let you borrow him for a while doesn't mean you have any say at all in what I do with him." His thumb slides across Erik's jawline. "All that work I put in," he says, almost fondly. "Too bad."

"It really is," Erik says, and his head snaps up. His face is terrible, and bright, and completely, utterly beautiful. "Guess who wants to say hello." And that's when the alarms go off.

The lights turn red as the speakers start blaring, _Warning, confinement breach in Level Twenty-Seven. Warning._

Charles finally manages to wrench himself away. He scrambles forward, reaching for Erik, but then everything goes black.

-

Interview Room #2 [0900hrs, 25.01.2431 AD]  
 **Conducted by:** Dr. Erik Lehnsherr  
 **Subject:** Raven #8

"I've figured out what the dreams mean. They're not really dreams. They're a message."

"I see. And what's the message."

"The queen wants you to know, her babies are going to kill you all."

 

 

*

 

 

The captain said, any place if they could pay. Charles only wishes for home. "I want you to see Earth," he tells Erik, wrapped around him in their bunk.

"I remember it perfectly well, thank you."

"No." He cradles Erik's pale face in his hands, tilts it up. "I want you to feel the sun on your face. This face. You could get a tan. Or sunburnt." His lips twitch. "I burn. You might tan. You can put sunscreen on me. I'll still burn, but not as badly."

"You're crazier than Shaw," Erik says. His eyes close and he pulls away, incrementally, from Charles. "You keep forgetting what I am."

"No," Charles tells him. "No I don't."

**Author's Note:**

> For the **mechanical / technological** square.


End file.
